


Access Denied

by Cameron_McKell



Series: Upon Further Review [25]
Category: Tron (1982), Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010), Tron: The Next Day (2011)
Genre: Gen, M/M, POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_McKell/pseuds/Cameron_McKell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam forgets something; things escalate from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Access Denied

“Good afternoon, and welcome to ENCOM; how may I help you?”

 

Erin smiled politely at the people in front of her, casually minimizing various social media sites as the pair walked up to the reception desk. They were dressed well, if a bit casually: the man was wearing relatively new black jeans – they hadn't started turning gray yet – along with a dark blue turtleneck and black leather biker jacket, while the woman had on a black and white geometric patterned dress and dark green leggings. Both of them were wearing black ankle boots.

 

Actually, it looked like they were both wearing the same _kind_ of boots.

 

“Hello,” the woman replied breezily. “We need to see Sam Flynn as soon as possible, please.”

 

Erin was a bit taken aback; _Sam_ _Flynn_? As in-?

 

“I see,” she hedged, and fixed her smile in place while she brought up the corporate meeting agendas for the day. “Did you have an appointment with Mr. Flynn today?”

 

The man shook his head slightly, “No, we don't have an appointment, but we have a high-priority need to see him briefly.”

 

Were these two for real? Erin cleared her throat a little, and glanced back at the meeting agendas. Maybe they were part of S.I.I's team arriving early and _very_ confused. “What company did you say you were with?”

 

The woman gave her a look like she'd hit her head on something, and Erin gritted her teeth. “We didn't say we were with a company, because we aren't. We have something important to give to Sam.” So saying, the woman pulled her hands from behind her back, showing Erin a nondescript backpack.

 

Hours of bomb safety seminars started ringing in her ears – they were _always_ in backpacks on the news, and in movies – and Erin straightened up stiffly, and tried to be as casual as possible while she summoned security. “Unfortunately, Mr. Flynn's day is completely booked up today, but if you'd like, you can schedule an appointment with him next week-”

 

“That's too late; it won't work.” the man interrupted, and Erin noticed he was wearing gloves. Probably so he wouldn't leave fingerprints. “We need to see him before 10:07 AM.”

 

He knew the _exact time_ of the S.I.I. meeting.

 

 _Where_ _was_ _security?!_

 

“As I was saying,” Erin continued, voice and expression now openly hostile. “Mr. Flynn can't see you today. If it's an emergency, we can deliver a message to him-”

 

“ _ **Tron**_?”

 

Erin and the two strangers looked over at the new voice; Mr. Bradley had just exited one of the elevators, and now that she thought about it, he and the stranger looked an awful lot-

 

“Alan!” the woman chirped, then dropped the backpack and hurried over to give him a hug.

 

Which he returned.

 

… Crap.

 

Mr. Bradley steered the woman back over while the man picked up the discarded backpack; seeing them closer together, it was official. The two of them _had_ to be related.

 

She'd just been giving a hard time to one of the chairman of the board's relatives.

 

She was _so_ fired.

 

“Mr. Bradley, you know these two people?” she asked, idly brushing her hair back, trying to play the whole thing off.

 

“Sure,” he replied with a smile, hooking one arm around both of the stranger's shoulders. “This is Tron, my nephew.” He shook the man – _Tron_ apparently, and was he _really_ named after the game, or was it a nickname? – by the shoulder, then nodded at the woman. “And this is Quorra; she's practically Sam's sister.”

 

Well. At least this couldn't get any _worse._

 

“I see,” Erin definitely _did not_ squeak. “I'll have their names added to the approved visitors list.”

 

Mr. Bradley nodded, then turned his attention to his nephew, arms dropping to his sides. “What are you guys doing here, anyway?”

 

Tron held up the backpack a bit more and shook it slightly. “Sam was running late this morning, and forgot his notes for the S.I.I. meeting.”

 

It was worse.

 

The woman – Quorra – piped up then. “Tron didn't know how to get here, so he came to ask me, and I gave him a ride.” Her smile turned impish, then. “He nearly crashed through the front windshield.”

 

Tron frowned slightly at Quorra, “That vehicle is _clearly_ not designed to decelerate that quickly.”

 

Alan was clearly struggling to hold in his laughter as the conversation devolved into friendly bickering for a moment.

 

It was official; they were _all_ crazy.

 

“Come on, you two,” Alan spoke up after a while, and nudged the two toward the elevator. “Let's go make fun of Sam for forgetting the _only_ thing he needed to bring in today.”

 

As the trio walked away, something occurred to Erin. Why had that guy Tron known that Mr. Flynn had been running late? And the papers... Was he staying with him? How long had _that_ been going on?

 

She was just bringing her social media site back up so she could discuss this new bit of gossip with Jamie in the New York office, when security _finally_ showed up.

 

Just in time to scold her for 'playing on the internet instead of working'. Figures.


End file.
